


After All

by gmariam



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Dancing, Fluffy Angst, M/M, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 06:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20403343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmariam/pseuds/gmariam
Summary: When a big date with Ianto falls through, Jack realizes what he could have, and what he could lose, and that more is what he wants after all.





	After All

Jack knows he can be difficult, and distant, and any number of other words that should never apply to someone who is intimately involved with another person. Thoughtless. Dismissive. It is never deliberate and he's grown much better at recognizing it and reigning it in, but still he forgets, far too often.

He knows where it comes from, knows why, but still it's hard to break the habits of a century of avoidance, to set aside his fear, his insecurity, his shame. He doesn't know how to move on and accept both his loves and his losses, so he tries to suppress the first to escape the second. Yet he fails every time.

This time has been harder than most, and as the months go by, and he and Ianto settle more and more into the very type of relationship he's trying to avoid, he finds himself falling into bad habits once more. He wonders why Ianto bothers, what he sees in Jack when he's so flippant, or selfish, or even harsh. He hates himself every time; why can't he stop?

But Ianto stays, holds tight. Sometimes he pushes back, forcing Jack to retreat even more, but Ianto never leaves. They fight, they shag, they move on. It's horribly unfair to Ianto, but Jack doesn't have the strength to end it. He supposes that perhaps like Ianto, he will take what he can get, but never more.

But then he realizes what he could have, and what he could lose, and that more is what he wants after all.

* * *

"Are you busy in three weeks?" Ianto asks one morning as they're having a cup of coffee in Jack's office before the others arrive. "Saturday and Sunday?"

"Saturday _and_ Sunday?" Jack teases. "What, can't get enough of me?"

"Just trying to schedule my other torrid affairs around ours," Ianto replies dryly, and Jack pretends to be hurt, hands to his heart. He is graced with the eye roll that can both cut him down and make his heart flutter.

"You know I don't think that far ahead," he says, leaning back. "Who knows what the Rift might have planned for us?"

"You don't think about what to have for lunch," Ianto mutters. "Let alone what the Rift will do in three weeks."

"Or what to wear when I get up, what to do day after day," Jack continues cheerfully. "I'm spontaneous."

"And I'm not," Ianto replies, sitting up straighter. "At least, not when it's important, so I'm planning ahead, and now you're busy."

"In three weeks?" Jack asks. When Ianto nods, he grins. "I'll put it on my calendar."

Which Ianto keeps track of, so he's all set. He wonders what's so important, though.

* * *

"Do you have a good suit?" Ianto passes the bottle of wine they are sharing as they eat two large plates of pasta. It's almost homemade—they cooked the rigatoni, opened a jar of sauce, and grated some cheese on a rare early night off work. It tastes better than anything Jack's had for weeks, so it takes him several swallows before he answers.

"Think so." Somewhere, anyway. Suits are definitely more Ianto's thing.

"Does it fit?"

"It will always fit," Jack laughs. "Because I will always look like this."

Ianto raises an eyebrow. "You think so? You don't think you'll ever gain weight like the rest of us? Grey hair, wrinkles, the like?"

"Doubt it." Jack shrugs, trying not to think about it too much, because he spent an entire year in chains thinking about it. "Forever young and all that."

"Is your suit in style, then?"

"Probably not." When Ianto gives him an exasperated look, he feels the need to defend himself. "I bought it in London, mid-eighties. Cost me a bundle, too. It can't be that bad, can it?"

"If you went with what was in style at the time, yes." Ianto takes some more cheese, several bites of pasta. "This is good. We should do this more often."

"We should have meatballs next time."

"Good idea." Another bite, then Ianto comes back to the suit. "I could pick out a new one for you, if you wanted. Something more modern."

"A new suit?" Jack asks, and he nods. "What for? Am I going somewhere fancy?"

"Two weeks," Ianto reminds him. "You said you'd put it on the calendar."

"Right." Jack sets his fork down and takes a sip of wine. "Thing is, you never told me what we're doing."

"Didn't I?" Ianto asks, sounding both nervous and sly, like he's having fun with a secret yet nervous about it at the same time. "Well, I suppose I could tell you, but—"

"But then you'd have to kill me?" Jack suggests with a laugh.

"Why bother if it doesn't stick? No, I could tell you, but then it wouldn't be a surprise."

"I don't like surprises." Which wasn't true at all, but somewhere in his head warning bells were suddenly going off, warning him about something…surprises, commitments, relationships, love…all of it. Surprise plans that required new suits were more than making pasta for dinner together.

Ianto calls him on it, because Ianto knows him. "You said you were spontaneous," he reminds Jack. "And I'm not. So I thought I'd plan something for us, a weekend off. I'll take care of the details, you can be spontaneous and come along."

"And if I don't?" Jack asks. "Come along?"

"I'll have to take Tosh," Ianto deadpans. "Since she can at least dress herself."

"I can dress myself!" Jack protests, and is rewarded with a smile.

"So you'll find a new suit before then?"

"With a matching tie and everything," Jack promises. He earns himself the eye roll.

"I'll see it when I believe it."

* * *

"Any luck with a new suit?" Ianto asks as they are getting dressed one morning a week later.

"A new suit…" Jack trails off as he remembers, and even though he knows it's probably too late to cover, he tries anyway. "Not yet, no. Still looking."

Ianto's look is so skeptical Jack feels his smile withering. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to forget!" Jack says. "You won't tell me, remember?" He grins at his wordplay, but Ianto does not seem impressed.

"We're going out and you need a nice suit for dinner. A really big, long dinner. How's that?"

"Still very mysterious," Jack replies, pulling up his braces. "What's wrong with what I usually wear?"

"Absolutely nothing when you're chasing Weevils through the park," Ianto tells him. "But this is something different, something…well, special. And expensive," he continues, as if covering up a forbidden word. "Which usually means looking the part."

"Do I have to act the part too?" Jack knows he should be taking this more seriously, as he senses it's important to Ianto, but sometimes his worst defense is acting glib.

"You'll have to dig your table manners out of storage, yes," Ianto replies dryly. He leaves the room and walks to the kitchen, where he starts some coffee and toast for a quick breakfast

"Do you still get to tuck a napkin in your collar?" Jack tosses back, and is rewarded when Ianto relaxes and laughs.

"Point taken. I suppose I'll have to put the napkin on my lap." A thoughtful look crosses his face. "Maybe we should look up which fork to use for which course."

"Why, how many courses are there for this big, long dinner?" Jack is starting to worry. Why is Ianto planning something expensive, something _special_? They'd celebrated Ianto's birthday in August, and Christmas is a minefield Jack doesn't have to navigate for a few more weeks. Is he forgetting something else?

"Seven, I think," Ianto tells him with a shrug. "Seems like an awful lot, but Gwen says the portions are fairly small."

Jack is confused as he takes out the butter and jam for his toast. "Is she going?" he asks. "Is this a team thing?"

"No." Ianto frowns. "I asked you about it a few weeks ago. A weekend off, remember?"

"Right…"

"The others said they'd cover for us." He pauses and grabs the toast, sets it on two plates for them. "Or Tosh and Gwen did, and Gwen only because we guilted her into it."

"You what?" Jack suddenly wonders how much he is missing when it comes to the gossip around the Hub. "What did you make her feel guilty about and why?"

"She was the one who mentioned that her and Rhys had done a tasting menu on their honeymoon. Tosh suggested we try it and when Gwen balked at covering for us, we pointed out we'd all covered for her honeymoon, her wedding planning, her birthday, Rhys's birthday, and so on." He eats his toast plain in three bites. "So we're off and they'll cover for us. Sorted."

"Still not sure why you're going through all the trouble," Jack says through a mouthful of food. He can't read the look on Ianto's face as he hands Jack a cup of coffee: smug or disappointed, or some combination of both with exasperation and fondness mixed in?

"I guess that will be part of the surprise as well," he finally replies, and there is definitely a hint of uncertainty in his voice that Jack hates hearing. Without even trying, he's let Ianto down and doesn't know how or what to do. Maybe he'll ask Tosh or Gwen. Tosh would be more discreet, but if he's forgotten something, she'll rake him over the coals even worse than Gwen would. He'll figure it out himself.

"And I will love it," Jack tells him, planting a sticky kiss on Ianto's cheek. Ianto rolls his eyes and the world is almost back to normal.

* * *

The next three days run them off their feet with Rift alerts and one never-ending chase to track down a pack of tiny but lethal raccoon-like creatures that change color when threatened, like chameleons. They finally crash at the Hub for a late dinner of pizza and beer, Gwen dozing off in a chair and Owen taking up the entire sofa while Ianto actually sits on the floor with Tosh, too tired to stand and eat.

"Oi, I heard you two were off this weekend," Owen starts, talking with his mouth full and waving a slice of pizza in the air at Jack and then Ianto. "Some sort of romantic getaway or something?

Ianto looks over his shoulder at the doctor, a napkin tucked into his shirt collar. "It's a night off, Owen. We all need one once in a while. Especially after this week."

"We don't all get seven course meals and a—"

"Owen," Tosh warns, clearly stopping Owen from giving away the secret. Whatever the secret actually is besides a seven-course dinner. Which reminds Jack that he needs to find a suit, only between worrying about what Ianto has planned and what it means, and chasing aliens and space junk for seventy-two-hours straight, Jack has no new suit. It's Wednesday and their big date is three days away.

"What kind of suit did you get, Jack?" Gwen asks from her place in the chair, where Jack thought she was sleeping, but apparently, she's woken up just to get him in trouble.

"Blue," Jack replies. "How'd you know I needed a suit?"

"Because that's what you wear to a posh restaurant," Tosh replies for her. "And we want to hear all about it when you get back."

"You know, I think everyone here knows more about this than me," Jack says.

"Not me, I don't want to know," says Owen. He's got an arm flung over his eyes now, and Gwen's breathing deeply where she's curled up in the chair, asleep again.

Ianto is staring out into the Hub, either too tired to think straight or too embarrassed to reply. Jack gives Tosh a questioning look, but she shakes her head sheepishly. Jack wonders how much they all know, what they think about this thing Ianto has planned. Owen called it a romantic getaway, is that what it is? Ianto did say Saturday and Sunday. All Jack knows is he's eating a number of small courses, and he needs to look good. Which means he needs to upgrade the oversized double breasted blue suit with padded shoulders sitting in the back of his wardrobe. And maybe stop worrying about it so much.

* * *

He's actually on his way to John Lewis the next day when there's a Weevil sighting nearby. He forgets about the suit after lunch, alternating between paperwork and phone calls and internet searches for seven course tasting meals in Cardiff. He finds himself thinking more and more about the weekend. Why does Ianto have reservations for such a posh meal? Why do the others know and why are they covering for them? And most importantly, what does it mean?

Jack knows he should be looking forward to the time he gets to spend with Ianto, alone and away from Torchwood. Unless the world ends, it sounds like they have most of Saturday and Sunday off to stop thinking about aliens and simply enjoy themselves. Yet why plan something so extravagant? Why not hang out at Ianto's local and play pool, crash with a movie, and spend the night tangled together in bed at Ianto's place? It's fun and it's casual and Jack would be perfectly happy keeping it that way.

An elegant night out sounds more serious. Like something a real couple would do as the next step in their relationship. But that's not like them, not what they are…is it? Jack doesn't want to do something like that, something that is so much more than what they've done before, something that signals commitment and obligation. It's a slightly terrifying thought and what he actively avoids in relationships, because it only ever ends bad.

But Ianto has planned this, which means he must want it. But does he want a nice night out, or something more? Jack can't give him more, surely Ianto must know that. They are what they are, something happily undefined. Undefined can be good, after all, since they're not locked into some shallow definition of what they should or shouldn't be, what they should or shouldn't do. They can be themselves. Jack's not sure this big date, or romantic getaway, is what they are, what they do.

And then Ianto tells him to pack a bag as they'll be staying overnight, and Jack bites back the panic that this thing with Ianto is not quite what Jack thinks.

* * *

"So where're we going that I need to pack a bag?" Jack asks the next day as they walk back to the Hub with lunch for the team. It's cold and windy and they probably should have driven, but it does give Jack a chance to ask about the weekend he's not looking forward to. Or is afraid of, to be more accurate. He _wants_to look forward to it, but apprehension holds him back.

"It's not a romantic getaway," Ianto tells him immediately. "No matter what Owen says. But dinner is a bit long, so I thought it would be nice to stay over."

"What should I pack?"

Ianto gives him _that_ look, the naughty little smile the rest of the team has probably never seen, and for a moment Jack thinks he can do this. Then Ianto shrugs and looks ahead. "A regular overnight bag, I guess. And we don't have to stay if you don't want to." But Jack knows that would ruin everything, because Ianto wouldn't have planned it if he wasn't interested, so Jack shakes his head, forces himself to say something positive.

"No, it's fine," he says. Which is still the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Ianto takes a deep breath before he speaks.

"Look, if you're not interested, that's all right. We could just do dinner, since I did pay a deposit, but we don't have to make a weekend of it if it's too much."

"A deposit?" Jack exclaims. "How much?"

"Doesn't matter," Ianto says. "It's just something to do, something nice." He shrugs again, and Jack knows the other man is trying to shrug off feeling vulnerable, because that's exactly what Jack would do. This is important to Ianto, and he hates letting Jack see that. Jack wants to do it, for Ianto, but he's still having a hard time not worrying about it.

"It's okay," he says. "Let's do it. Like you said, it's a rare night off so we may as well enjoy it."

"If it's too weird…" Ianto trails off.

"It's not weird, it's us going out together for longer than usual," Jack reassures him, even though it is weird. It shouldn't be, since they've spent the night together plenty of times, but always at Ianto's flat, or at the Hub. "It's a little out of the blue and I'm still not sure what we're doing, but it's good. Let's do it. Where are we going again?"

Ianto finally tells him. It's an extremely upscale resort complex outside Newport, and Jack thinks his answer may have been wrong. It's way too much.

* * *

He doesn't have a suit. He doesn't pack. He knows perfectly well he's self-sabotaging and will regret it. He should say something to Ianto about his concerns, but dinner is that night—Ianto wants to leave after lunch to check-in – and Jack doesn't know what to say. Or how to say it, because it would ruin everything, and while he may not be ready for a romantic getaway with Ianto (he wants to be ready, when he stops to think about it, which he tries not to), he does not want to lose what he has.

And then the Rift opens up and drops hundreds of glowing alien golf balls over Cardiff. They spend all of Saturday running them down, but even splitting up, it takes well into the evening to find them, destroy them, and come up with a barely credible cover story. It's dark and it's cold and Jack is tired and hungry. Which is when he remembers that he is supposed to be in Newport, enjoying a seven-course meal in a new suit that he doesn't actually own. He didn't pack either, but he can do that in five minutes, so while the others are getting ready to leave, Jack dashes downstairs, throws everything he can think of into an old duffle bag, and hurries back up. Gwen is gone and Owen is walking out and Ianto is talking to Tosh. He looks tired and disappointed.

"Ready?" Jack asks. "Can we still make it?"

Ianto turns to look at him incredulously while Tosh touches his arm and turns to leave. "Jack, the reservation was for seven. I canceled it hours ago."

"You canceled it?"

Ianto walks toward his station and turns off his monitors. He grabs his coat and turns back to Jack with slumped shoulders, hands tucked into his pockets. "When we were on our way out to Roath," he says. "It was pretty obvious by then that we weren't going to make it. As usual, Torchwood won."

"Only if we let it," Jack says.

"I'm letting it," Ianto snaps, uncharacteristically severe. "I'm tired of wanting something, of actually planning something, and then watching it go up in flames. I suppose if Gwen can't even have an alien free wedding, there was no way we were going to make it through more than a pizza for dinner."

"We can still try." Jack doesn't like seeing this Ianto, who has lost hope in trying to enjoy something normal for just one night. And he's surprised to find that he's bitterly disappointed as well that their plans have fallen through. Seeing Ianto's disillusionment is what makes him realize that in spite of all his worries and his fears, his reluctance and lack of enthusiasm, he _wants_ to go and spend a romantic weekend with Ianto. Knowing that he can't stings more than he thought it would, when two days ago he'd wanted to cancel more than anything.

Ianto is walking away, though, not even responding to Jack's desperate suggestion.

"Ianto?" Jack hurries after him, catches his arm before he gets to the stairs. "We can still spend the night, right? Maybe try for a nice breakfast or lunch, and dinner tomorrow?"

"I canceled everything," he says. "Dinner, the room, all of it. Told them it was a family emergency."

"What about your deposit?" Jack asks without thinking. Ianto's face hardens just the slightest.

"It's not about the money," he says. "It was supposed to be—well, it doesn't matter, does it? Not meant to be and all that. That's Torchwood."

"It does matter," Jack says. "It matters to you! You planned all this, wanted to surprise me—"

"But you didn't want to be surprised, remember?" Ianto throws back at him. "It doesn't matter to _you_, does it? I could tell you weren't exactly excited about it."

"You didn't tell me anything!" Jack exclaims.

"It was supposed to be a surprise!" Ianto almost shouts back. Jack steps away and cocks his head. He's going to figure this out and fix it, because he hates the way he feels—like he's failed again, and he _wants_ to go, dammit—and because he hates seeing Ianto upset even more.

"Why?" he asks. "Why plan something so big, so extravagant? Why not our usual? There are plenty of places to go around here, some of them pretty nice."

Ianto narrows his eyes, and Jack can see he's calculating how much to reveal. "We always do the usual, Jack. And that's fine, but I wanted to do something different this time."

"Why?"

His lips press tightly together, but then he nods, as if he's decided to release the words he's kept back for so long. "You've been back for six months," he says. "And we've—well, we've been doing the usual for almost six months, so it seemed as good a reason as any to do something different."

"Something special," Jack says softly, suddenly understanding and feeling awful. As an immortal, he doesn't always put stock in the passage of time; it will last forever for him, after all. He's forgotten what six months feels like, how it marks the development and progression of a relationship, and wishes he had thought about it with Ianto, because Ianto deserves so much more.

"Look, it's fine," Ianto says, literally trying to wave it all away. "I know you didn't really want to go."

Jack's head whips up. "I never said that."

"Did you pack just now, or before this all started?" Ianto asks, then continues before Jack can answer. It's probably obvious since there is a sock sticking out of his bag. "Did you get a new suit?"

This time he shakes his head, horribly disappointed in himself for letting Ianto down so completely. Worse than Torchwood running them into the ground and ruining their night, Jack's lack of effort only highlights the inevitable failure of Ianto's attempt at normalcy.

"It's probably better this way," Ianto says. "I wasn't sure if you…well I wasn't sure." Jack wishes Ianto would finish his sentences, no matter what comes out at the end. "But I wanted to, because it's been a good six months. Because I'm glad you're back. But it's fine this way, probably better, and since it's late and I'm exhausted, I'm going to go home and crash until the next crisis. Good night, Jack."

He turns and leaves before Jack can get in another word. He thinks about following him, but there are too many other thoughts running through his head crashing into each other. The loudest one screams, "Make this better, make it right!" and with a determined nod to himself, Jack hurries into his office to try his best at making it right.

* * *

Slightly over an hour later he pulls up to Ianto's flat and hopes he's not undressed already, or worse, asleep. Or had something to eat. Because Jack has more food than he knows what to do with, along with everything else he could think of having to do with dinner and dates and even a little romance: flowers, candles, wine, music, food. Four courses were all he could come up with on such short notice, and he hopes it is all enough.

It's probably too much, he thinks as he carries three bags plus his army duffle up the stairs to Ianto's flat. He feels like he's in a bad movie and is almost certain he's going to wake Ianto up and make things worse instead of better. Nevertheless, he sets down the bags and knocks, trying not to bounce on his toes as he waits.

Ianto opens the door with a beer in his hand, his tie off and shirtsleeves rolled up. He looks surprised, then wary, glancing around the hallway before back at Jack, as if expecting someone else.

"Uh, hi," he says. "What's going on?"

"I brought the food to us," Jack says, picking up his bags. "Only four courses, because that's all I could come up with in an hour. But it's from Orsino's so it should be pretty good." Orsino's was a popular restaurant on the Quay that they'd been to once, not long after Jack had first returned. They'd enjoyed it enough to go back, but never seemed to find the time. It was always their usual instead.

"How did you get food from Orsino's?" Ianto asked. He appeared thoroughly confused, which was better than upset, and almost kind of cute.

"I'll tell you all about it if you let me in," Jack says, and Ianto steps out of the way. Jack carries the bags straight to Ianto's kitchen, then takes off his great coat and lays it on the sofa since Ianto is staring at him in confusion, clearly too surprised to take it and hang it up.

"You're wearing a suit," he says. "I don't think I've ever seen you in a suit." Even for their nicest date, Jack had simply put on his best shirt and trousers with a new pair of braces. He smoothes out the dark grey suit and grins, trying not to preen too much, but it does look good. "It's not blue, you said you had a blue suit."

"Found it tucked behind the blue one," Jack says. "I like it better."

Ianto sets down his beer and walks over, running his hands along the fabric. It is a wool/ rayon blend, single breasted with wide notch lapels, a matching v-neck vest and high-waisted (he doesn't miss that), double pleated trousers. Ianto unbuttons the coat, fingers the pocket watch hanging from a chain, steps back and studies him.

"It's much older than the eighties, isn't it?" he asked.

"Just before the war," Jack tells him proudly. Of course, Ianto knows which war he is talking about and nods.

"It's in good shape. Why are you wearing it at…" He glances at his wrist. "…half past ten at night?"

Jack turns to the bags and unpacks, then starts to set the table. He's been to Ianto's flat enough over the last few months to know where things are, and Ianto leans against the doorframe, watching while Jack finds almost everything he needs. Once he's finished he produces the flowers, only slightly smashed from the bag, and hands them to Ianto. "Vase?"

Ianto shakes his head. "How about a pint glass instead?"

They have to cut the stems, but it works, mostly. Jack places them in the center of the table, but then they wouldn't be able to see on another, so he moves them to the side and puts a candle there instead. Ianto has returned to his beer, watching with an enigmatic look on his face and making no effort to interrupt. Jack decides they need a real drink, finds the scotch Ianto likes to keep at the back of the cabinet, and pours them each two fingers with a splash of water.

"Cheers," he says, handing Ianto the glass.

"To what?" Ianto asks, but there is a smile nipping at his lips so Jack feels hopeful, like maybe the night isn't lost after all. And hopefully he's not making a fool out of himself either.

"To a long day that's finally over," Jack starts. "To a nice dinner, even if it's not seven courses. And to six months." He takes a sip, enjoying the taste, letting it settle his nerves.

Ianto sips at his drink as well, glances away, at the table and the food. "You didn't have to do this," he says. "You don't have to make up for anything, you know. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know," Jack says, then places their main course in the oven to stay warm. He sets out some bread and oil with olives, motioning toward the table. They sit across from one another and begin their meal. "Like you said, Torchwood got in the way, like it does so much of the time. But there were things I _didn't_ do, like get a new suit, get packed, get excited."

"You can't force yourself to do something you don't want to do," Ianto pointed out.

"But I did want to," Jack tells him. "Only I wouldn't let myself want it—haven't let myself want these sorts of things for years, decades even. I know it's a big deal for a lot of people, but for me…it's even bigger."

Ianto frowns. "I'd think it would be old hat by now," he points out. He takes a piece of bread and talks with his mouth full, a rare slip of etiquette, or maybe he's picking up Jack's eating habits now. "This is good, by the way. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jack replies. "And it's not old, no. Yes, I've been through these things more than a few times –" Ianto tries not to cringe, but his eyes betray him—"yet it doesn't get easier, only harder. And I know that now, after so long. I know how it plays out, so it's hard to let myself go to that place. To want something, to accept it, to get excited about a weekend away."

Ianto nods. "I understand, when you put it that way."

"You do?"

"In a way," he amends. "I mean, I've only been through it once, but I can't imagine going through it over and over and over…" He trails off and finishes his drink. "I guess I thought, or I hoped, that a nice dinner, a night away, wasn't too much. I'm sorry if it was."

"Don't be sorry!" Jack exclaims. "It's not too much, not this, and not us." He stands up and clears Ianto's glass, moves toward the counter to get their unofficial second course. He returns with two side salads and a bottle of wine. It's one they've had before and enjoyed. Ianto smiles, obviously recognizing it.

"All this must have cost a lot," he says.

Jack joins him and shakes his head. "It's not about the money," he says, parroting Ianto's words from earlier.

"Then what is it about?" Ianto returns. "If spending the weekend at a posh resort was so terrifying two hours ago, what changed?"

"Nothing, exactly," Jack says. "Except seeing how disappointed you were helped me realize how much I wanted to go, too. It would have been amazing. Thank you for planning it."

Ianto smiled, ate some salad, and nodded. "This is nice, too."

"It's not a seven-course meal and a king size bed at a classy hotel, but it's still us, isn't it? Together?" Jack asks. "Maybe we can reschedule, go away another time."

"I'd like that," Ianto says, quickly and sounding more sure of himself than he has all night. "If you're certain."

"I'm certain," Jack says. "I like this. Us." He pokes his dish. "This salad."

Ianto laughs, and Jack laughs with him as they finish their salad. He pours them more wine and pulls their main course from the oven, steak au poivre with smashed potatoes and roasted asparagus. Jack had called the restaurant as soon as Ianto had left the Hub, explaining his problem and begging the manager for a full course meal to take home as soon as possible, no matter the cost. He'd cleaned up and put on his old suit, run to a nearby shop for the flowers and other supplies, then picked up the food and driven to Ianto's flat. He is proud of how much he accomplished so quickly.

"This is excellent," Ianto says as he takes another bite of steak. "Really, really good. Thank you."

"Thank you," Jack says, and laughs at the disbelieving look on the other man's face. "For not going straight to bed. You were even still dressed!"

"Too wound up to sleep," Ianto admits. "I had some crisps and a beer, a rather typical Torchwood dinner, and was going to watch some telly. I would have been asleep on the sofa if you'd shown up any later."

"I'm glad I got here when I did then," Jack laughs.

They finish their meal with easy conversation. Jack clears their plates, then pours them each another glass of wine. "Dessert?" he asks, but Ianto shakes his head.

"I'm too full," he says. "Can we save it? Or at least wait a while?"

It's late, and Jack is tired, and full, and he nods in complete agreement before he has an idea. "I forgot the music," he says, grabbing one of the cds he'd thrown into a bag and stepping into the other room. He starts the music, keeping it low, and offers Ianto a cheeky yet sincere look. "How about a dance?"

They've only danced once before, at Gwen's wedding a few weeks ago, and it was awkward as half the guests were staring at them. It didn't bother Jack, but he could feel how tense Ianto was, though there were half a dozen other reasons for that. Still, they'd worked those out and Ianto had planned a night away for them, and now Jack wants to enjoy that night, even if it is back at Ianto's flat with take away and a cd.

So he takes off his suit coat and holds out his hand and hopes Ianto says yes. The other man nods with a slightly skeptical look, and Jack pulls him close before he can change his mind. They sway to the music, a soft ballad from Ella Fitzgerald, and Jack feels a sense of happiness he's rarely felt before, the kind that he can relax into and enjoy, the kind that doesn't frighten him but makes him wish it could last forever.

"I'm glad I came back too," Jack murmurs quietly as they move. "Because it's been a _really_ good six months."

Ianto nods in agreement, his cheek resting against Jack's. "Yes, it has. And a pretty good night after all."

"The night's not over," Jack tells him, earning a chuckle this time, which was not what he was going for.

"Of course it's not. I had big plans for tonight, you know."

"Oh." Jack grins as he turns them a few times with the music. "More than a seven-course dinner?"

"Much more." Ianto starts to lead, something he had not done at the wedding, and Jack follows, enjoying how tight the other man is holding him. "We had a suite, with a balcony and a marble bath, prosecco and a king size bed…" He trails off, smiling against Jack's cheek. "I suppose we'll have to make do with my bed."

"I like that idea." Jack kisses his ear, unable to resist any longer. "And I like your original idea. I hope we can rebook sometime."

"We can try," Ianto says. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure. How about New Year's Eve?" Jack suggests.

"It'll be full," Ianto says, kissing his jaw. "But maybe we can find something else."

"I'd like that."

"Me too." Their lips finally meet, and Jack notices they are much closer to the bedroom than they were when they started dancing.

"I think I'd like something else as well," he murmurs.

"Me too." They kiss once more before moving into the bedroom. Jack sets aside his doubts, his fears. It seems pointless to worry about the future when he has the present before him, to experience and enjoy, to even love. He can't be afraid, not when a good man wants to be with him, wants to plan a romantic weekend with him.

Jack knows it may still be difficult and he will still struggle, but he also knows the struggle will be worth it. Because something more is what he wants after all.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to fakinggsanity for the prompt and chats! I tried to flip it, then it sort of flipped back, and as usual when I try to write a prompt, it resembles neither, but I hope I did right by the characters and maintained that balance between assertiveness and uncertainty. Even after a hundred stories, these two are still tricky! Thank you for reading!


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